If
by Female Phenom
Summary: When all you want is for the one you love to be happy, then sometimes sacrifices have to be made.


Title - If

Author/Distribution - Female Phenom, and just ask first please

Rating - R 

Disclaimer - I have never, nor will ever, claim to own any WWE superstars, including the ones featured in this fic. In fact the title is also technically not my property so....go figure.

Summary - When all you want is for the one you love to be happy, then sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

Featuring - As with most of my work its a secret, you'll have to find out.

A/N - I'm finding it easier at the moment just to write little short fics, and I don't know when the next Womanly Wiles chapter will be out. And have you noticed a lack of Taker within my work recently? Don't worry I will rectify that soon!!!

His hands are waving madly, emphasising his point in an extreme way. His audience, a rather bored looking fellow wrestler, is looking at something in the middle distance, taking little notice of his friend's distressed movements. His hands reach up, running through his hair, something he only does when feeling strong emotions of anger or frustration; feelings mirrored by the grimace on his face. He finally snaps and slaps his friend shouting something, which causes his features to contort further. His friend slaps him back, angered at such violent actions, and yet another fellow superstar appears to settle the argument, but he just gets turned on by the fighting duo. Momentarily they are brought together to extract revenge before returning to their earlier dispute. 

Even in this angered state he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The passion creates flames in his eyes and his frantic movements cause his muscles to flex, ripples shooting through them. I sigh at the sight of my angel and not for the first time, brush a tear from my eyes. To think I had him within my grasp, so close, and that I let him go, allowed him to leave my life like that. Ever since then I've wanted him back, the greatest torment I've ever known being that I can't have him.

He'd take me back, I'm certain of that. Welcome me with open arms and shower me with the love and attention I crave, make me feel the most beautiful creature alive and all he could ever desire. I'd would live wrapped in the euphoria he once created for me. Then once more I would make a stupid mistake, allow past problems to resurface or even create fresh ones. Regardless of what it was, something would happen, I would allow something to come between us. I know this and refuse to put him through that pain.

Its easier this way to let him believe that I truly hate him, that he repulses me; that way he will never need know the inevitable pain of our relationship, and he can have some semblance of happiness. My own is a small price if it pays for his well being.

History repeats itself, so they say, and with us it has happened too many times to ignore. I don't do it on purpose, but who does? I am soft prey for another, and all three of us know it. There is nothing he could ever do to prevent me from falling once again for that man of my past, the one who both hates, and I believe, loves me. The one I spend my life running from. He knows the power he holds over me, he enjoys it. He manipulates me at will and I know it. For him I am little more than a toy, a plaything for when boredom overcomes him, yet somewhere within me I feel that there's something, just a small corner of his heart in which he harbours a fondness, or perhaps more, for me. Its something I often consider but have never drawn a definite conclusion on.

If he would set me free. If he would allow me to attempt to escape. If he would give me just a chance at happiness. If, if, if.

If, maybe and possibly. My life is made of them and I can't force that upon him. To bring him to that level is cruel, and I love him to much to make him suffer my torment. Mine is a cross to bear alone. I broke his heart once, and whilst on the outside he's recovered would he be strong enough to survive another? I doubt it, so for his sake I stay away and live my own life.

He never understood why I had him transferred, why I traded him over to my enemy. Story line said that he left of his own accord, but who wrote the storyline?

He tried to make me change my mind, he begged, he pleaded, but to no avail. It was so hard not letting my resolve soften. Inside I melted the moment he entered the room, eyes sparkling with barely contained tears, disbelieving, innocent tears. How I wished to take it all back, take him back, and tell him it would all be all right, it was just a simple misunderstanding. How I wished, but I couldn't.

In this business sacrifices have to be made, my heart was one of many I've made over the years. And even though it still hurts, burns every time I see him, knowing that I can't have him, touch him, hold him, I stand by my decision and my sacrifice.

And with my own eyes moist, I lied to him. I told him I didn't care, never had, never will. Years of being used had turned me into the cold, heartless bitch I portrayed, and he would just have to deal with it. I dismissed him with a casual wave, demanded he leave, and he did, but not before giving me a look that will forever haunt me. The pain, anguish etched on his features. As if the knowledge I had just demolished the most beautiful thing in my life wasn't enough, he had to leave me with the most wrenching parting shot. "I love you."

He expected no reaction, for the words were spoken with his back to me and the door slamming was the full stop to his sentence. Yet they were his last chance, my last chance to call him back. I did. Inside I screamed him back, shouting so loud my head ached and ears hummed. Cheeks damp and throat hoarse I sat for hours, in a lonely office, left to reflect on the toughest move of my life.

Now I live with the results, have to, and though I regret them, I would never take them back. Maybe my actions made me seem cruel, evil, but I did them selflessly and suffer everyday for them. Maybe he can't see that, maybe he never will, but my perfect angel has been granted his shot at happiness, I must allow him to be free, as Paul won't allow me.

Paul. Even his name sparks something inside me. Hate, passion, desire. A desperate perverse mix of the three. He's my drug. My self destructive addiction. And I can't give him up. I've tried before and failed so miserably. I'm resigned to my fate as his plaything and no longer delude myself that I could ever break the hold he has over me. To call it a spell would be inaccurate, because it suggests childish hope, something innocent and sweet, not this dark fascination I have with him. Something completely evil, yet binding, so strong it crushes my heart. He knows how I feel and feels no remorse. He's the Game, remorse isn't in his vocabulary. He revels in the power he has over me, that in his hands is the possibility of bringing my whole life to a stop, ruining it, rebuilding it, crushing it once more. This endless game he plays with my life is nothing more than an occasional amusement to him, I know that yet I can not break the viscous cycle within which I am entrapped. 

My angel, he never understood. He wanted to be the white knight who stole me away from the evil prince, the perfect fairy tale. In fairy tales the princess is easy to rescue, when the prince is out of sight he's out of mind and he never returns. This isn't a fairy tale, and I'm no ordinary princess. For the billion dollar princess nothing is ever that simple, I'm too sick to escape the him or his life. My evil prince still owns me and always will. I hate him for it, hate myself for it, but there is nothing I can do.

Christian walks off, leaving my angel staring angrily behind him. He lashes out, fist striking brick as he punches wall in frustration. He lets out a howl of anger, the sound of which pulses through my veins, intoxicating me. My world spins as I fight the desire to scream with him. He lifts a lamp and throws it across the room, and subconsciously I follow his actions, not hearing the shattering as the lamp hits the wall. My own tears furrow my cheeks and I collapse to the floor, my eyes never leaving him.

Suddenly the screen goes black. Once more I erase him, my baby Jericho, and am left with an empty blank void in his place.


End file.
